Change of Fortunes
by RadialSymmetry
Summary: "Who knew a simple fertility charm at an opportune time could change so much?" Instead of living with the Dursleys, a visit to a friendly fellow magical's house, Dinah Hart, becomes an extended stay, and Harry's life changes permanently. OC and Harry centric, NOT paired together.
1. Prologue

RadialSym: Okay, I will be upfront here. Yep, this is one of those "Harry is rescued" fics. Yes, I intend to have an OC as a central character, though Harry gets plenty of attention as well. I won't follow the books exactly. I'm not sure if I will have pairings or not (How often do people meet their future spouse at 11 or 12 anyway? Not often, though it can happen. How often does a whole school of kids meet their future spouses at 11 in the same school? Pretty much never, I would think), and if I do, there won't be a hint of it until at LEAST fourth year. If I haven't scared you off, fantastic, you are my favorite reader ever and I mean that sincerely.

Disclaimer: Clearly, I would not be writing fanfiction if I owned Harry Potter, I would be sleeping on a pile of money. Actually, that's a lie, I probably would write secret AU fanfics if I owned Harry Potter, because that's the sort of creator I'd be. But seriously, I don't own Harry Potter.

-+-+-Mid 1984-+-+-

In a far off castle sat an older man dressed in emerald green robes. It was clear he was lost in memory and his eyes were set on the horizon. His robes were the only outer sign of his mood, having been chosen for the resemblance to a dead witch's eyes. Albus tried to mentally shove his memories aside. The man watched out a dreary stone window for news, owls, brooms, motorcycles, anything. Any sign.

He smiled sadly to himself as he shuffled a piece of parchment between his wrinkled hands. There was another. One who could take Petunia Dursley's place and raise the boy.

The wizened man shivered as the frosty air seeped into his office, and chilled him down to the bones. He recalled last night's discovery.

Alone in the tower, with even Fawkes gone on errands, the old headmaster of Hogwarts had poured over stacks of government documents the previous night, due to becoming increasingly worried about the suitability of the Boy-Who-Lived's muggle guardians via the reports of one Arabella Figg. One by one by one, old hands sorted manually through piles of official looking paperwork.

Albus found himself weary from the work, being too old for the political and social maneuvering he knew would be required for any change of Harry Potter's guardianship. Of course, he had to do everything by hand, as he was dearly lacking in trusty associates to do the legwork. The man sighed to himself, thinking, _'So many deaths.'_

If a suitable wizard guardian or relative of Lily Potter could not be found, young Mr. Potter would be left only with the choices of the Dursleys, or Death Eaters kidnapping him the very next day after placement. The boy was hidden behind wards, and being taken out of the protections of the wards while some of Voldemort's followers were still loose would be like dangling steak in front of the noses of starving dogs.

The old man could almost feel the eyes of Voldemort's followers on him then, though Albus knew it was just the stress talking. Last night, he had nearly tossed away the papers in his frustration, until the name 'Evans' caught his eye. There had been another Evans, a previously unknown grand-aunt to Lily, who had children and grandchildren before dying according to the records. The granddaughter was probably around the age Lily would be, in fact, had Lily lived.

The twinkle in the old wizard's eye was restored when he remembered an idle mention, by his positively ancient mentor, of a even older friend of his casting a fertility spell on some promising muggles long long ago, muggles whom had been struggling with having more children. It might even have been one of Lily's great grandparents, for all he knew. Yes, this would do nicely. He just needed a time turner, that spell he saw in Minerva's notes, a favor from an old friend, and a few key ingredients from Severus's 'secret' cupboard...

-+-+-Early 1982-+-+-

A youngish redhaired woman in a oversized sweater sat in the shade of an old willow. Her 20 month old slept soundly in the stroller, giving the mother time to mentally prepare herself.

The two had gone to a little nearby park, which was little more than a grassy field with a couple of trees. Inadequate as it was, the park was public enough for a meeting between strangers, just in case, and she hadn't wanted to ask the man she would be meeting to pay for coffee, as she would feel too awkward to leave if the visit proved unproductive. The mother rocked the stroller gently as she waited, as it would always soothe her baby. The contact between her hands and the stroller carrying her child also soothed the woman's own nerves, but of course it was primarily for Dinah's sake if anyone asked.

The child's grandfather was to visit them for the first time. He'd had a great deal of trouble tracking them down, apparently, and the man was to explain why his son had never contacted them. In all honesty, the young mother was expecting that the worst had happened. Gwendolyn had gotten the feeling that her boyfriend at the time had some sort of dangerous job, though she hadn't the foggiest clue what he did for a living. After their first time around two months into their budding relationship, she'd never heard from Joshua again. Gwen was furious at the time, particularly as her instincts had told her Joshua wasn't the type to just disappear.

People strolled by on the sidewalk from time to time, and there were a family picnicking not far from where the single mother sat. She hummed to herself to pass the minutes.

The little girl stirred in her blankets, but didn't wake.

"Mummy's here, honey." The young woman grabbed her pack, and rummaged through it for a sippy cup, until she heard a noise. In an instant, the mother was on high alert, scanning the area for threats. Drawing on ancient instinct and her own memory of her mother, the young redhead began rattling off a list of safe places in here mind. Safe havens. At her side, there was a distinct crinkle of dead leaves. She turned toward the sound of rustling. A few feet away, in the sun, there stood a pale elderly man in deep violet robes. She didn't like the strange gleam in the older man's eye, nor his knowing smile.

After assessing him for a moment, she thought,'Possibly a grandfather, but not the one I'm looking for,'

In point of fact, she was waiting for an old Filipino man. The picture he'd sent was of a smallish, light-brown man (just like his son), with salt and pepper hair and dark but warm eyes.

Gwen pulled herself off the ground, and pretended to adjust her daughter's blankets. Still tense, she offered a terse "Good day", and made motions to leave for a different tree. After gathering her things, she walked the stroller back toward the sidewalk.

To be frank, Gwen had met a great many odd folks over the last two years, and not odd in a good way, such as Dinah's father had been. It might be a good idea to move somewhere else to raise her daughter. At least, right now, moving sounded like the best idea in the world.

The wheels clacked as Gwen pushed the stroller onto the sidewalk. Dinah threw her blanket onto the ground and babbled something. Without missing a beat, the mother swept up the blanket and decided to take a walk around the block, and come back to see if the man had gone. Surely Mr. Santos would understand once the young woman explained...

-+-+-A couple of years later-+-+-

The swish of a wand filled the air, and then silence. Even the birds grew quiet. In a rather plain, unadorned back yard, three people sat on the ground. An older, grey haired man spoke gently to a distressed child.

"Magic is a divine gift. I know others wouldn't think so, but the powers of a wizard or witch can come from no other but God himself. You are NOT a freak."

A girl in a yellow dress, with her hair strewn in all directions, wailed, "Yes I am. Dudy Durssey said so."

The four year old was sobbing in the front yard, to both her guardians. Her mummy held her.

As Paul tried to calm Dinah, Gwen was internally wishing the Dursleys would move far, far away from Privet Drive. The young girl in her arms rocked back and forth. The thirty year old woman vowed to have a talk with Dudley Dursley's parents.

Gwen picked her daughter up from the ground and carried her inside once the tears had slowed. No doubt the girl would start napping soon, thanks to the unnecessary stress. Paul opened the back door for them and left straight for the kitchen. He'd bring a cup of hot chocolate in a minute, most likely, to calm Dinah's nerves.

The living room was clean enough, with the carpet was vacuumed and magazines put away carefully. Gwen got the feeling she'd be scouring the the carpet for fallen boardgame pieces later on, though. Gwen laid her daughter down on the couch and reminded the girl that all her adult cousins were magical, and there wasn't anything wrong with her cousins, now was there? Paul was a wizard. Her dad had been a wizard, too, according to his dad.

The girl looked up from the couch mournfully, considering her mummy's words. After a while, Dinah nodded, and asked, "Yeah?"

The mother looked into her daughter's bright, pleading eyes. Tears still streaked her face. It took all of Gwen's willpower to not let the anger she was feeling toward the Dursleys bubble over and show on her own face. She buried the fury for the sake of not frightening the girl before her, who was already on edge. Instead, the single mother tried to mimic the kindly face that Paul had, and hugged her daughter.

Gwen said soothingly, "Yeah, honey."

-+-+-Later that day-+-+-

A redheaded woman in her early thirties was marching down a featureless suburban street in a huff. The woman hadn't even bothered to put on a jacket, she was so angry.

Her shoes clacked as she walked, though mercifully, there were no nosy neighbors outside that evening to tsk-tsk and speculate on the state of her footwear. It seemed that some folks believed that their neatly trimmed lawns excused all manner of gossipy rudeness. Out of breath and red-faced, the short woman arrived at Privet Drive number 4. It was a house no different from any other on the block, except perhaps for a different coat of paint, and neatly arranged flowers of a different color. She approached the door, intent on speaking to the parents of one Dudley Dursley. She took one moment to compose herself, before ratting twice on the door.

There was a slight commotion inside, a plate shattering and two people yelling (presumably one person was yelling at another to get the door) from what Gwen could hear. To calm the nerves, she counted to ten before allowing herself to react. Surely, the boy's parents would understand the problem with letting their child bully his schoolmates. Weary brown eyes watched the door as a latch was noisily undone, the knob turned, and the door itself was cracked open a foot or so.

A tall, long-faced brunette, obviously the mother, greeted her with a unenthusiastic "Hullo? Can I help you?"

Gwen managed to push her anger aside for a moment. Maintaining a neutral expression, she said, "Yes. I need to speak to you for a minute about your son. Mrs. Dursley, I presume?"

Mrs. Dursley opened the door wider, though the long-faced woman made no attempt to leave the doorway. "If this is about Harry-"

Gwen shook her head, as she had no idea who 'Harry' was. "No, I mean Dudley Dursley. I'm afraid that Dudley has referred to my daughter as a..." The mother spoke between gritted teeth, "Freak. This needs to-"

The color drained from the taller woman's face. Mrs. Dursley snapped, "Dudley has done no such thing!"

The redhead blinked. Well, some people did get defensive of their kids, but Gwen hasn't quite expected that. They both stood silent for a moment, then the redhaired woman attempted to start again.

Lowering her head, she began, "Mrs. Dursley, there were witnesses. I am not someone who makes idle accusat..."

A moment before it happened, Gwen sensed something was off, and stopped speaking. The sense of dread filled her with nausea, with a bitter taste in her mouth, then she heard some horrible sound-some kind of pained yelp-come from the upper floor. Mrs. Dursley did not outwardly react to sound.

Instead, she continued, "Dudders is a fine young man, and...," the brunette before Gwen paused. The thirtyish redhaired woman shivered in the cold, or perhaps from the sneer on Mrs. Dursley's face. "I did not catch your name?"

The woman outside shifted positions, fidgeting with her hands. "Gwen Hart. Shouldn't you check on...?"

But the mother of Dudley Dursley simply narrowed her eyes, as if the mere suggestion offended her. Mrs. Dursley leaned out of her door, and glanced about the quiet, dark streets. Gwen stepped back, not wanting to get in her way. After the Dursley woman was satisfied with her appraisal of the neighborhood, the housewife turned her gaze back to Gwen in front of her.

"Hart, you say? So you're that girl's mother? Sorry I didn't recognize you. Not much resemblance to go off of."

Immediately, the frazzled mother of one felt a stab straight to her heart. Little Dinah was born from her womb, but it was often hard to tell from a glance. Gwendolyn Hart was a short, pale, freckled woman who was pleasantly plump. Her little girl was a light brown-skinned, dark haired, thin child who strongly took after her father, a wiry Filipino man. Gwen wished he could have been here with her, but it couldn't be helped. At least she had Dinah, even if people routinely asked questions like 'Does she know that she's adopted?' in front of the girl, damn them.

The single mother demanded, "What are you implying?"

At this, the brunette suburbanite in the doorway shook her head. Gwen was momentarily distracted by a sound, that of the little patter of tiny feet, though the door blocked her view of the inside of house number 4. The housewife before her slowly began to shut the intruding neighbor out, closing the door. Gwen looked up and found condescending pity overflowing from the Dursley woman's eyes. The tone of her words were poisonous.

"Well, well. Seems it's a freak-family thing, taking after one of the parents entirely."

The jacketless, cold woman lost herself in a blinding hot rage. "WHAT!"

The door slammed in her face. The redhead pounded a few times on the walls, and doors, and shouted a bit.

After a while, the futility of pounding and cursing the inhabitants of Privet Drive number 4 became clear. Where had she ever gotten the idea to move to a more upscale, snootier neighborhood, Gwen could not fathom. The short woman let herself catch her breath. Looking up, she realized she needed to get home soon. It was nearly 9 now, and the sky was dark, and a three quarter moon was out overhead.

Careful not to make noise on the lawn, for fear of waking the world with those clacking shoes, Gwen began walking back to her home, number 17.

She turned once more to throw a final curse on the house number 4. The house's lights were all on, and the light gave the house a look not dissimilar to jack-o-lanterns. The hedges could be teeth, the windows eyes. Gwen was ready to leave, but she noticed an oddly-short occupant of the place scrubbing a dish through those cursed windows. A child, maybe four years old, around Dinah's age...

-+-+-Two months later-+-+-

The little girl had been babbling and twirling magnificently in the dress her grandfather gave her. It was dark blue, with a heart shape sewn into the hem. She chatted as well as a four year old could with any passing adult that would listen, about how her Grandpa was the best grandpa ever. Dinah had insisted on her mummy braiding her hair nicely as well, so as to make her look 'even more prettyful' before they left the house, and her confidence showed.

Gwen obliged with a smile, just happy that her baby wasn't haunted anymore by the "freak" incident.

Today was Saturday and it was the early afternoon, and so Miss Gwen Hart, her daughter, and her daughter's paternal grandfather, Paul Santos, were out in the grass enjoying the sun at a local park. The two Hart ladies wore dresses, and the grey haired Mr. Santos wore his best attempt at muggle clothes. Though he drew the occasional stare, Paul more than made up for his dress sense in reassuring Dinah about her magical gift, and helping out around the house. If her Grandpa was a wizard, magic wasn't all bad. _'Thank god Paul is so active in her life,'_ Gwen thought. People paid no attention to the three of them, though a cat that the mother could swear was from the Figg home watched the trio.

Gwen kept an eye on Dinah as the five year old ran in circles on the grass field. The redhead sat on a blanket in the shade of a large tree, as did the quite bony wizard beside her.

The little girl skipped to the edge of the playground. A familiar pale, dark haired boy sat near a swing. Gwen leaned to get a closer view. She recognized the untidy mop and rags as belonging to a child few other than her and the Dursleys knew existed.

The thin old man beside her murmured, "Nothing to worry about, it's just little Harry."

Gwen snorted. She'd started to suspect any tendencies toward troublemaking had been screamed out of the kid long ago. Yet, while Harry might be a harmless boy, that cousin of his wouldn't be far behind. She looked to Paul to try and gauge the old man's thoughts. The elderly wizard might seem stretched, worn, frail, but his mind was still sharp as a tack.

Paul was staring off into the distance. Lost in memories, most likely. "Perhaps we should invite the boy over? I'm sure Dinah would like that."

-+-+-Later that week+-+-

It struck her as exceedingly odd and alarming that the Dursleys never asked for the boy back, but at least she had enough room for a toddler guest.

The bacon was long since done cooking, but the heating charm Paul left on the plates kept it warm for her. Gwen turned off the stove and carefully laid the scrambled eggs into bowls. Her skills as a waitress in her 20s came in handy as the mother balanced the bacon and egg dishes in her arms.

Gwen suspected that something was very, very wrong with Harry Potter's relatives, so she hadn't pressed the matter of him returning, for now. She and Paul had tipped off the police time and time again for two months since she saw the four year old boy washing dishes. And cleaning the driveway. And trimming the grass. Yet each time the policeman acted as if it was the very first time they were told that something might be off.

Gwen automatically began laying out plates on the living room coffee table. It was short enough for the children to seat themselves without assistance. The short woman reflected that Dinah and Harry were quite small for their age-Dinah was naturally tiny, but it was quite obvious Harry was suffering malnourishment.

For the past week, Harry didn't leave. The Dursleys didn't pick him up. And Miss Hart was of no mind to force a toddler away, though every day, she feared kidnapping charges despite having asked politely if Harry could come over. And even if that never happened, what if they left him here forever? What was she to do? The thirty year old woman tried to push the matter out of her mind, and concentrate on breakfast. How she would handle it was something she'd figure out later.

She took a deep sniff, enjoying the aroma of fresh bacon, as she laid out food onto plates. Already, the toddler sized chairs were set up.

-+-+-Meanwhile-+-+-

A pair of smiling children sat in a bright and colorful room full of toys. The boy and the girl sat on a rug, around a pastel yellow dollhouse. The girl was thrilled to have a playmate who didn't mind playing anything she wanted, and the boy was blissfully happy to be allowed to play with toys. It was a beautiful arrangement.

The girl in the red jacket controlled the house's people, who did Mummy and Grandpa things. Dinah marched the dolls to the rug, and pretended to use a barrette as garden shears on the rug fibers. "Chop." The boy in the green shirt (which was bought to match his eyes) meowed and pretended to be the stuffed toy cat he was holding. Because cats didn't have to do the chores.

"Mraaaow...miaow...maaaow."

A surprisingly convincing set of meows came out of the grey cat toy to match Harry's own meows. The four and a half year old giggled in delight, before realizing he had done something BAD. The child's eyes widened. He dropped the toy as if it had burned him. Then he shot up and ran into the nearest closet.

"M'm sowwy!" The boy shouted, though he was muffled by a door. "M'm sowwy, m'm sowwy."

The newly-turned-five year old girl was startled by her friend's outburst. Dinah wanted to say something, but probably her Grandpa would know what to do. So she dusted off her jacket, left her room for a moment, and shouted, "Grampa! Harry got scareded. Help?"

The boy in the closet shrieked "Sowwy!" impossibly loud. Dinah flinched from the volume, even while standing outside her room.

The girl walked over to the next room, the bathroom, and knocked. There wasn't any noise for a few seconds, so she knocked again. She heard her grandfather Paul say, "One moment." The girl waited patiently for a few moments, and when the door flung inward, she was lifted off the ground.

Her grandpa's concerned face met her eyes, silently inquiring as to what transpired. As they sauntered into Dinah's room, the dark haired girl explained about the meowing toy.

"Harry made Miss Tibby meow, and then he ran in the closet. "

The elder man expertly avoided all the brightly colored toys strewn about the floor, having navigated children's rooms for a quarter of his life. However, he had nearly fallen when Dinah matter of factly stated, "Harry is a witch too." Paul paused momentarily, absorbing the news. The old wizard was honestly surprised, though obviously it wasn't a bad thing. Merely unexpected. He corrected Dinah, "Wizard. Boys are wizards."

There were shrieks of terror from the closet. "M'm sowwy!"

The grey haired elder set Dinah on the floor by the side of the closet, and he knocked on the closet door. Grandpa Paul planted himself in front of the closet.

He said, "Sorry for what? You haven't hurt anyone."

A small voice peeped out, "Make cat talk. Not s'pposed to."

Paul frowned at this. He spotted a small crack between the closet door and the wall, and he figured Harry was probably watching through it. The old man reached for Dinah's favorite stuffed animal, the cat that Harry was mentioning. He made a show of pretending to examine the toy, and said. "Mm, I don't think talking hurt Miss Tibby any. It's okay, Harry." All that could be heard from beyond the closet was silence. A sniffle or two. The older wizard stared at the crack, hoping to see little green eyes. He sighed as he considered what Harry's fear implied, that Harry apparently wasn't 'supposed to" use magic, and the fear of the consequences would send the boy hiding in the dark.

"Harry, magic is not bad." Paul made a silent plea that the child wouldn't shut him out. "It's a gift."

The wizard's granddaughter chimed in. "Yeah, Harry. It's from God!"

Dinah begged her friend to please come out, telling him he wouldn't be punished, because there wasn't anything to punish.

-+-+-Meanwhile-+-+-

Outside the house number 17 lay a orange cat in the grass, hardly visible in this early evening. Its body was contorted in what was supposed to be a relaxed pose, though in truth the creature was watching the inhabitants of number 17 carefully for the past several hours. The grass had not been terribly comfortable to lie on, in the mean time. Unfortunate that lawn was a tad untidy, but that could hardly be considered a mark against the family within the walls of the worn blue house.

The cat lazily swatted some unknown foe, as cats were wont to do. There wasn't anything there, but 'hunting' was a good enough excuse for why it would be in the yard anyhow.

Yellow eyes scanned the property. Suitable enough. The wards would be renewed.

-+-+-End of Chapter One-+-+-

RadialSym:Thank you for reading!


	2. Deadline

RadialSym: Hello, dearies. My previous chapter can be considered something of a prologue, and was a mostly just a batch of snippets showing as quickly as possible how Harry Potter ended up leaving the Dursleys. Why did they just leave him at some strange woman's house? Well, Petunia suspects (wrongly) that Gwen is a witch and the Dursleys think that Harry's 'own lot', as they would put it, ought to be the ones taking care of him. How did the transition go? It'll come up within the story, though not immediately.

-+-+-July 31, 1991-+-+-

On that quiet July morning, a messy haired boy was sleeping soundly on an aging twin bed. The covers were half-kicked off, and a single arm was hanging off of the edge of the mattress.

A white and grey cat lounged on the other edge. Fond as it was of the preteen, the cat's true loyalty lay elsewhere-in the corner of the room, hidden between two chests of toys and books. The cat said nothing as the other presence sat patiently, waiting for the boy to awake, since exactly thirty seconds ago.

The boy turned in his sleep, as he often did, to the cat's never-ending irritation. As the other one in the room kept silent, seconds turned into minutes, and several minutes passed, just watching as the boy squirmed about in the sheets, sometimes mumbling, but never waking.

The other one tapped her foot impatiently. Soon enough, the boredom became too much. She shoved the furniture aside and sprang up.

Dinah shouted at her adopted brother,"Oh just wake up already! It's your eleventh birthday, you're supposed to be excited."

The boy scrambled out of bed. The cat lifted its' head, in acknowledgement of the 'sudden' appearance of its' master. The eleven year old fumbled for his glasses, though not before giving the cat a cross look for failing to warn him of the intruder.

Harry delicately placed his glasses on his face. "Damn cat. Why are you always her favorite?"

Harry saw that his sister had already gotten dressed, in her favorite skirt and jacket. The dark haired girl blew a raspberry at him.

Dinah petted the cat, "Leli loves you too."

His sister spilled the beans on the family plans for today while Harry scoured the room for a pair of clean socks. Her voice went high. "Mum's planning to take us to an aquarium. It has sharks in it, I think, but the glass is really strong, right? "

"Right," the eleven year old responded. He found a pair of clean socks under the bed. _'What's the best way to make her feel better?' _the boy asked himself.

"Er, how much does the all that water weigh, anyway? It has to be stronger than a shark if it can hold all the water." He ventured a guess that maybe it would work...uh...

The shorter girl brightened instantly. Her pitch went pack to normal and his sister immediately launched into Encyclopedia Mode.

"Oh, TONNES and TONNES. Do you remember that documentary? Aquarium holds exactly-"

Maybe he was a bad brother, but Harry tuned her out while she drifted off into Recite The Entire Bloody Booklet Mode. With a little teeny tiny pang of guilt, of course. He placed a few of his things away, so he wouldn't disappoint Aunt Gwen when she came in to check later. Dinah chatted away happily about the specifics of aquarium dimensions and maintenance without a care that her brother wasn't listening, as she could tell he had only asked to get her to calm down anyhow. The two preteens walked downstairs to grab breakfast, taking care not to fall.

They walked into the kitchen and grabbed their plates off the the counter. The pair of preteens each took their preferred places at the table: Dinah choosing to sit with her mum, and Harry choosing to sit on the other side by Uncle Paul. Their longhaired cat, Leli, stalked in and claimed an empty seat near Dinah.

The old wizard greeted them first, "Hey! There's our boy." Paul faked a sniffle. "Oh, about to be all grown up." For dramatic effect, the wizard paused.

Fresh, syrupy pancake smell wafted up to Harry's nose. The growing child inhaled the scent. It had real maple syrup today, not even a little bit magicked. He started digging in.

Uncle Paul continued at the worst possible moment. "With his own wand, and everything, too."

Harry nearly choked on a pancake. Yet he couldn't even be mad about it. "I'm getting a wand? Really?"

Across the table, Aunt Gwen nodded an affirmative. He saw that she had her 'going-out' hair styled up and make-up on. "Yes, really. You're going to need it. Dinah, too."

Harry gaped at his aunt. They'd both be getting wands? There had to be some kind of catch. Extra chores or something.

The boy looked to his sister for any hint of what might be going on, but Dinah was lovingly immersed in her mealtime, and thus, of no help.

So in between bites (he chewed and swallowed each bite _before_ talking, of course) he decided to just plain ask. "What's going on?" The preteen considered his words. "I mean, I know it's my birthday, but..."

His sister stopped chewing for a second to pipe in. "School supplies. Did you read your letter yet? I got mine at, um, midnight, I think."

Harry stared at her, searching for a sign of insincerity in Dinah's face. While Dinah had never, ever, tricked him in a bad way, the eleven year old had been tricked by other people before. Like Piers. And his old cousin Dudley. Honest brown eyes stared back at him.

His redhaired aunt broke the silence. "You got invited to a special school."

Across the table, Dinah put her fork down and slid a yellowy letter across the table. She was grinning. "Go on, read it."

Trembling, the boy took the letter from the table. The faces to his right and left all grew quiet. Watching him running his thumb across the rough surface, double checking to make sure it was real. The paper _seemed _to be physically there.

What would it mean for the future? He offhandedly noted that Dinah seemed happy about the letter, so she probably had already agreed to go to this mysterious school.

The parchment itself was yellowed with age, though the boy suspected it was actually written rather recently, because the ink smelled fresh. In neat little script, the following was written on the outside:

**"Mr. H Potter**

**The Room To The Left**

**17 Privet Drive**

**Little Whinging**

**Surrey"**

That address set off alarm bells. The room to the left, really? _Wow, they had good information on him. _

Harry looked across the table, searching for his Aunt's reaction, being that she was Head of Household. The older woman smiled, bent forward, and whispered, "Go ahead and open it, Harry."

His uncle and sibling also murmured encouragements, clearly not bothered by the over specific address. He took a deep breath. The eleven year old ripped the parchment open. The tearing sounded like it had come from a paper far larger than the one he actually tore, and the letter itself ended up being flung out of his hands.

Harry winced when he saw that a corner of the letter was caught in a cup of syrup from the other side of the table. Uncle Paul, whom was sitting beside Harry, swiftly retrieved the mail. With a quick swish of his wand, the older wizard muttered a word that Harry didn't catch. The sticky syrup retreated from the parchment, and went back into the bowl.

The letter was handed back to the messy haired boy. "Here you go."

Harry mumbled a quick thanks, and unfolded the sheet. He read the letter quickly, eyes darting across it. His eyes widened as he realized what the letter was about.

The boy's face lit up. On the other side of the table, his sister beamed.

Harry said, " Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Dinah said, "Yeah, we're going to a magical school." She grinned,"Can you believe it?"

Her brother agreed, "Brilliant!"

Aunt Gwen nodded, and pointed to Dinah's letter, which was clutched in the girl's hands now. The older woman pursed her lips together, feeling overwhelmed by the whole situation to the point of losing her words momentarily. Harry waited for her to clear her throat, and start speaking again.

Everyone was so excited, they hadn't noticed the cat had migrated on top of their dining table, despite not being allowed.

Gwen bent her head down, "You know, I can hardly believe... " She laughed. Not a malicious laugh, but a joyful one. "Even better, the tuition has already been paid for in your case, Harry. You've been slotted to go to Hogwarts since, well, since you were_ born_, according to this one, ah, Minerva McGonagall...she wrote me a letter explaining it_._"

Harry's ears perked up at this. His face was in a state of shock, unreadable. But behind his frozen face, on the inside, was pure joy that they wouldn't have to worry about money. His eyes flashed an unusually bright green as he considered all of this.

The boy glanced at his sibling. Dinah's eyes had brightened as well. Obviously she was as thrilled as he was.

The eleven year old glanced back down at his Hogwarts letter. Aside from a list of school supplies, he scanned the letter for any other useful information. A signature was scrawled on the bottom-it might have said "McGonagall", but it was hard to tell-and beneath that was a list of school supplies.

His ten year old sister watched as he eyed the letter. An expression of alarm crossed her face. "What?" He asked.

Dinah's eyes snapped to her own letter, sitting by her mum's empty platter on the dining table. Her head snapped around so quickly that her braided hair smacked the cat on her left. "There's a date here. Look."

She grabbed the letter. The birthday boy across the table lifted himself up and walked around to read over her shoulder. The ten year old pointed to a date written on the letter, which was today's date.

They both read aloud the relevant sentence. "We await your owl no later than July thirty-first."

Neither child reacted for a minute, soaking in the news. Dinah was the first to respond while Harry was still in shock. She squeaked out, "Today! That's today! How are we going to have time to write them back and have the school get it before the end of today?"

Next to Harry, his redhaired aunt sighed. She stared unhappily at the letter in Dinah's hands. "Wizards have ways of traveling fast, don't worry about getting your letter to Hogwarts. We could deliver it in person...but we won't have time for the aquarium today."

Harry and Dinah blinked in unison. The two preteens had forgotten entirely about the trip in the excitement with the letter.

Harry quickly reassured his aunt. "That's fine. I mean, the letter has a deadline, and that's more important. "

Dinah sighed in relief.

The four inhabitants of house number 17 all did the minimal amount of work they could get away with so that they wouldn't be left with horrid dishes later. While each person either finished breakfast or put the leftovers away, the eldest magical in the house, Paul, informed the children of a wizard place he vaguely knew of that sold the necessary supplies for a magical school. He didn't have much details, having never been there, and having few ties to the wizarding world, but the few magical friends he did have had mentioned it multiple times.

As Gwen loaded empty platters into the sink, the older wizard gathered the needed monies, coats, and the car keys. The children gathered their letters and a couple of durable bags. The Hart-Santos-Potter family sped away to visit a mysterious place called Diagon Alley.

-+-+-Diagon Alley-+-+

The hat nearly flew off her brother's head while the two navigated the narrow streets.

Dinah and her just-barely-older brother were shuffling among a crowd far, far larger than the amount this alley could comfortably hold. Elbows, handbags, knees, and wandering feet awkwardly poked out from all directions. Her favorite boots were already scuffed, and the orange sundress she wore was getting stretched thanks to getting caught in various places.

And yet, still, it was worth it. Dinah looked up toward the sky. And on a positive note, today was all clear sunny skies at least. No clouds in sight.

She and Harry hurried along. The birthday boy was keeping a death grip on his hat, which the barkeeper in the Leaky Cauldron had loaned him to cover the scar, since Harry was apparently super-famous for it. Now Harry looked no different from any other smallish, black haired eleven year old. Except for the fact that no other kid their age was wearing one, which kind of killed the purpose of using it as a disguise, but it still stood out less than a lightning bolt.

Any store that looked vaguely like it might contain any writing supplies, they immediately searched every inch of the place. But the bookstore, secondhand shop, and potions store were all out of such supplies. Harry even tried the owl emporium, figuring that perhaps the owners would have paper for the purpose of writing ownership papers. All he got for his trouble was being shoed away by an employee, though. On a lighter note, Dinah saw that Harry clearly bonded with one of the angrier snow owls. One that hooted indignantly at her. The store didn't accept any 'muggle' money, so it would have to wait until Mum found them.

They passed signs lit with magical fire, and shops lined with moving pictures. In the windows, they saw steaming cauldrons made of copper, and pet-size animals of every sort you could possibly want, and flying brooms just like the kind witches in stories flew on. She knew Harry flown on one before that Grandpa Paul put a flying charm on, though it had been waaaay slower than the speeds the shop-brooms boasted.

Her brother lingered at the shop named Broomstix for a minute, staring at the finely trimmed brooms, and at one in particular that had a golden kickstand. The shorter girl gave him a little time, since it was the thirty-first and all. And Mum and Grandpa would probably need time to get some money from the bank anyway.

After a short while, Dinah grabbed her brother's arm and pulled him away from the shop.

"C'mon Harry." She said. "You DO want to write the reply letter in time, don't you?"

The boy beside her immediately shook himself out of his broom-fascination, and turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "Right! Of course."

The pair of them, with Harry wearing his striped shirt and Dinah in the orange dress, were beginning to get stares while they were standing in front of the shop, even despite the fact that Harry had been hiding his scar. All around them were people of all ages, genders, and social classes, each wearing some variety of flowing robes and long coats. It seemed like they were the only ones wearing normal clothes. Maybe they were the only ones, and everyone else already knew everything a witch or wizard was supposed to know. Dinah felt her cheeks burning.

_'We better get new clothes_,' She noted to herself._ 'As soon as we take care of the letters. And we better get on with it soon.'_

Despite her embarrassment, Dinah glanced among the crowd for, well, people who seemed comfortable in this strange place. Many people in the robes carried themselves with an air of self assurance. Several candidates frowned back at her when her brown eyes met theirs.

Harry walked silently next to her, following her lead. Thankfully he'd never been one for lengthy conversation. _'Mum would have broke my concentration by know,' _She mused, while adding a silent _'Sorry, mum.'_

A couple of ancient-looking ladies were strolling leisurely by, in floral robes that were surely just as ancient as they. Dinah gave one of the white-haired ladies a pleading puppy-dog look.

It worked like a charm. One of the ladies, an elderly witch wearing an elegant bun, paused her conversation. "Yes, dear?"

Dinah hesitated before asking. "Um." Words failed her.

Her brother picked up on what she was doing, and so Harry continued for her, "Er, we just received our Hogwarts letters. Can you tell us where the shop for, er-"Harry pulled the letter out of his pocket, but one of the senior witches spoke before he could open it.

The grey-haired woman in a long witch's hat smiled. "Oh, quills and parchment are in the store just over that way." The elderly witch pointed to a shop behind her. She and her friend continued strolling down the alley.

The only two kids in non-wizarding clothes went their own separate way, to the shop that the senior witches had pointed at.

Harry read the sign out loud. It seemed like the right place.

When she turned to Harry to ask what the plan was, she noticed that her older brother had a far away look on his face. When he caught her staring, Harry blinked.

"Let's split up. It'll be faster." She nodded in agreement.

The two kids entered the shop, with Harry in front. Dinah gasped as she took in the sights. _'It's just pens and paper_,_'_ She told herself. _'But it's going to be my first officially magical purchase...'_

There were many dozens of pale wooden shelves, each of which was covered in a rainbow of stains. On a shelf near the door, there was a pile of burlap sacks. In aisles in the middle were pots of a variety of metal quills in different lengths and with helpful enchantments. The wall on the left held several of stacks of parchment with different prices, which was where her brother Harry had gone off to. The wall on the back displayed hundreds of individual feathers plucked from strange birds, some of which glowed with obvious magical power-in particular, Dinah had her eye on a light pink and green feather. The wall nearest Dinah was filled up to the top with ink pots, each of which was a different color. She stepped closer to the wall of pots, eying them one by one. When she turned her eyes to one of the specific ink pots, the tiny purple vase of ink floated right off the shelves. The young witch jumped back. The purple ink pot mimicked her movement.

Dinah was caught off guard. But not in a bad way.

She laughed. "I am SO buying you. "

She moved to pluck the purple ink pot out of the air, and it landed gently onto her palm. The girl moved toward a shelf on her right containing reds, and some blue inks, too. The ink pots floated gracefully off the shelves.

When Dinah gathered enough inks to satisfy her, she walked off to the back of the shop to grab some of the pink and green feathers. She met Harry by the parchment, who'd grabbed enough for the both of them as well as a bunch of quills.

The owner of the place greeted them warmly, and allowed them to use their 'muggle' money, as he was familiar enough with the conversions.

The pair walked out of the shop, after thanking the owner several times.

Bits of dust covered the supplies they'd just bought. Dinah dusted herself off before sitting herself down in an empty corner of the alley. Harry followed suit. After a quick exchange of parchment, writing implements, and ink between the two, Dinah got started on her acceptance letter.

The girl dipped a quill into one of the blue ink pots. She spoke aloud while she wrote, thanks to long habit.

"Dear Professor McGonagall..."


End file.
